Irrational Revelations
by chaste-aeon
Summary: Fate has something else stored for Hermione and Draco where insanity is a probability, paranoia is evident. Creepy prophecies,raging hormones, and forbidden relationships take place in their very progressive world. “I’m not your lap dog, Malfoy.” “A nice
1. 5 Steps To Acceptance

Title: Irrational Revelations Chapter Title: Insanity  
Characters: Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger  
Genres: Romance, Humour  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Hermione Granger was ecstatic. She finally gets her dream come true, and her efforts for 6 years would soon end. But seemingly, Fate has something else stored for her. Where insanity is a probability; paranoia is evident. Sarcasm and humor is very much taken seriously. Creepy prophecies, raging hormones, and forbidden relationships take place in the very progressive world of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.

There are 5 steps accompanying change before one reaches acceptance. Denial, anger, bargain, depression and finally comes acceptance. 1ST POV. (May shift to other POV during the story per se)  
7th Year. AU RnR! Contains Gryffindor/Slytherin pairings.  
Author's Notes: I finally had the guts to post another story. Hogwarts based, and of course it's a Draco/Hermione fic. It's different from all the other post-howgarts fics I've been writing because firstly this is a 1st P.O.V. Something I'm just starting to acquaint myself with. Reviews would be appreciated as always. If you want to suggest something then go on. I would be continuing this story only if it's pretty much liked, or at least people would be reading it. So your reviews would be detrimental for the next chapter's update. This is just a spur-of-a-moment fiction, so I haven't gotten anything planned except some experience I had with an RPG I joined before.  
December 29, 2005.

* * *

**September 03, 1997**

This is my final year. And I'm guessing, as well, this would be the most memorable year of my life in comparison to my other years in Hogwarts. _This is it._  
Another thing worth mentioning- although I don't think I'd ever get tired of actually repeating it- is that _I'm_ Head Girl. I thought, given the amount of time I was freely given whether or not I would accept or decline the award, that it was all a _hoax_.  
A _joke_. I didn't dare believe it, when I was _sure _someone was just playing a joke on me. You _see_, I didn't want to know that it was just a dream. You couldn't blame me- after all, I've been crossing my fingers during the _whole_ of my sixth year that I would be picked as the Head Girl. It would _literally kill me_ to know that everything was just bogus.

* * *

_Finally_, I told myself with much satisfaction when Professor McGonagall approached me in the train, asking me to follow her to my- no, _our_… Yes, _our- _Head Boy and Head Girl's compartment. I couldn't move my line of sight from the wooden door of the compartment. I was drowning in its deep mahogany coloring that it barely registered in my head the compartment door had opened. And inside, was a nightmare waiting to be unleashed.

There are five steps accompanying change, before one reaches _acceptance._

The first one was clearly: **_Denial._**

_Malfoy, _I spat in my head with a force that the twins would be proud of when I would be playing as a beater and hitting a damn bludger. I closed my eyes, willing _him _to be the joke of century. Just waiting for someone to shout, "September's Fool!"; even though no such event exists. I was waiting for one of the twins, Ron, or even Harry -in my sheer desperation- to appear in place of Malfoy and later find out that it was just one of them under the effects of a Polyjuice Potion.

But of course I knew as well as the git in front of me that everything was real. I wasn't just used to reality just yet. And so,  
"Granger, I don't think you're up to the job at all if you're just going to stand idly there. You're wasting precious time that I could be using for other important things," he drawled in that lazy manner of his that made me believe he thought everything was under his command- that _I _was under his command, in his disposal.

Professor McGonagall had already left by the time he said that. We were seventh years, not some damn third years who needed to be guided and protected from each other. But at that moment, for just a minute, I was led to believe, with a pang of foolishness, that maybe Malfoy and I wouldn't last a second here after all. And all will be gone- that we'd be dead by the time the Hogwarts Express would reach Hogwarts and casting _Enervate _on both of us would prove futile as we had cursed each other with _the_ Unforgivable.

"Damnit, Granger! I'm not going to bite!" Malfoy snapped at me, and I was brought back to the real world. Away from reasoning since Malfoy was Head Boy.

"Come in and sit," he continued, voice low. I'm not sure, but I could have swore I saw those four words in the air, -as he uttered it- each emphasized with a punctuation mark. Making it a command.

The second was **_Anger_.** Although I think I was weaving through it.

I clenched my jaw, not wanting to hex him. I said, in the calmest manner I could, "I'm not your lap dog, Malfoy." But I think it came out rather strictly clipped and hostile than calm. "I was just giving myself a few seconds of peace before I face your foul presence that I would be bearing for the rest of the year."

He ignored my last statement and seemed to be amused with my first. "A nice thought, Granger. My lap dog. How-"  
"-about it never will happen. So stick your thoughts to your ass, or I will," I told him fiercely.

Me and my big mouth. I shouldn't have used that term, _lap dog, _at all for my sake.

"I wouldn't object with your… sudden_ passionate_ impulses," he told me, voice achingly low, almost seductive.

Oh God. It-it wasn't seductive. He _wasn't _seductive- or neither, was he seducing me. Merlin, it made my head swirl just deciding what would be worse: Him seducing a mudblood like me in his own volition, or actually thinking that he was seductive.

I didn't think his latest reply was worthy of my precious saliva and effort. So I didn't reply. But it was just too much to hope that he would leave me alone, at least just for the trip.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, lightly. He even feigned concern, stretching his neck a bit, to look at me closely. The only thing he lacked was a monocle detectives usually wore in the past. He appeared to be _that_ scrutinizing and it was getting on my nerves. Oh, wait. He was always getting on my nerves. _Nothing new._

"No. I just thought that maybe some tranquility would do us good. I was wrong, once again because you're you." I forced a sweet smile, before massaging my temples, praying for any deity to grant me some patience.

"And I thought the famous Hermione Granger couldn't keep her mouth shut, even if her life depended on it. I thought I would be deaf by the end of the year." To prove his hypothesis, he brought out a small earplug, which I deduced acted like a hearing aid.

He was juggling it in his right hand, and my eyes narrowed in annoyance. He continued, as if there was nothing wrong- or nothing insulting about what he said, "Why, I didn't think you'd ever compliment me at all. I guess for once you deserve my-"

"It wasn't a compliment; it was an insult. And I wouldn't want accept any form of charity, or anything from you, Malfoy," I muttered, strangely aware of the time we were wasting.

"Charity?" he laughed, he actually laughed. Of course, it was this nasty laugh reserved for me and me alone. "I'm not daft, Granger. I'm quite aware that even though you're smitten with the Weasel, you're not yet married to him." –Here I reddened in embarrassment- "So you're not yet one of the scums that Purebloods like me are embarrassed of. Then again, you're worst than the Weasel since your-"

Of course once anger dissipates- or in my case, I was getting desperate, one gets the weird sense to actually **_bargain_**. And bargain I did. I wanted to keep everyone happy.

Or at least myself happy.

Or at least sane.

"I give up, Malfoy." Even to myself, I sounded tired and defeated. He had stopped using the term _mudblood_ for whatever his reasons were that I didn't know and just didn't care at all to know during our fourth year. It would be just a shame if he was reverting to doing that again. "Can't we just form a truce? I'm tired of the pleasantries you shower upon me every year, Malfoy." I spoke, as if talking about something pleasant indeed. We both knew, Malfoy and I, that I was far from being pleasant."

He grinned, his forsakenly incriminatingly arrogant grin. "Why, I didn't think you'd ask."

I thought everything was over. That he'd be my bestfriend. Alright, so maybe not my bestfriend, or even a friend for that matter. But I really thought those squabbles would stop….

I was…

I wanted to lie to myself and tell myself that that was the last time I will be _graced_ with Malfoy's presence for the year. But of course, it wasn't. It wasn't even the last time I faced his presence even in the ride. We were the _Heads, _and we had things to do. And for starters, we had to assign the roaming-around roles to the prefects.

Enter. Depression. I was hoping for too much, of course. That I knew already. I sighed. With his, _"Why, I didn't think you'd ask,"_ came a price. And to top it off with cherry and cream, he hadn't even named his price yet. And his meaning of _truce_ was that he would at least be willing to work with me.

I internally snorted.

If I didn't offer the truce, what would have happened to us? I think I would have given up my badge as Head Girl. I sagged in my seat, waiting for the other Prefects to come and wash me away from this depression.

Something caught my attention. Red hair. Oh yes. No, not Ronald, of course. Who would be sane enough to actually reward him with a Prefect badge. Certainly not Dumbledore. At least, for Ron's sake, he wasn't delusional that he would be like Percy. Hah. He didn't like to be Percy at all. Anyhow, it was Ginny. Thank you Merlin. You saved my day- my life!

I let out a breath I was unknowingly holding. Acceptance. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. Ginny would be with me- and with her Weasley temper, I'd have someone with me who wouldn't lose sense when dealing with Malfoy. After all, the family feud had been going on for generations now. I was safe.

Unfortunately…

I was wrong.

Dead wrong.

* * *

A.N: Love it? Hate it? Like it? Send your owls! Hihi. I have drafts here for until the 4th or 5th chapter, I think. All right, people... the third chapter might be in for a dive since it's full of history. But, it's in Draco's POV!  
Oh yeah, if you do review, I'll send crepes to you! We just made some during our Baking Class the other day. 


	2. Paranoia

I was always rooting for whatever projects and ideals Dumbledore had his spectacles on— especially the Inter-House Unity that he seemed so intent on actually attaining in Hogwarts to happen. Normally, I would also go on about how vital it is not only morally, but with the war going on, it would be a big boost for our side.

But.

Yes, there was a but.

The _but!_

But nothing was normal anymore, and I was clearly going over the edge. It was just at this moment that I was against the Inter-House Unity, and what was ironically surprising was Malfoy was on the other side— no, that was just the ironic part. He always seemed determined to be on my other end, always wanting to contradict me and my actions. And the astonishing thing was that he was _for_ the Inter-House Unity this second. Which only meant I wasn't. Why? You'll see.

In the terms of our meeting, he was strongly pressing the motion that the pair which will be roaming around every night must come from two different houses. Before we could come up with the pairing scheme, I just knew I would be stuck with him if I let the conventional scheme continue.

He was Head Boy, and I was Head Girl. He was a Slytherin –an arrogant, pompous, crude, who thinks like a 5 year old, if I might add— and I was a Gryffindor –no need to actually elaborate which of us is the good guy or the good girl, in my case. It was the perfect example, pair for the Headmaster's Inter-House Unity, and since Draco _sodding_ Malfoy, unexpectedly, was one the driver of the cause for whatever irrational reason he has behind his sly mind, he would see fit that it would be us. _Him and me._ I was playing the part of victim of the who soon goes insane because of the wretched antagonist, him.

Was I just getting too paranoid?

Draco Malfoy was staring at me. His eyes, silver-like were ice-like, that I could only skate above the glass since breaking it would be impossible— even with magic. I couldn't read any of his thoughts, only that I knew it involved myself. No, I wasn't being vain. Trust me. It was so because I could feel a crawling sensation on my skin that made me want to squirm and run away from his gaze. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. We both new it was a game, and even if I was scared or nervous, I wouldn't let him know just how much he got into my skin.

Again, with his _regard_ for me, I asked myself again, "_Was I just getting too paranoid?" _Naw. But I'll be damned if I left him and his putrid mind and get away with things— all in his disposition.

"Granger, you-" he started, calm and authorative, and I was just a little innocent girl drowning out an _authorative_ git's voice when I interrupted him. He raised a brow elegantly –which made me want to roll my eyes— as if challenging me to speak. I met his gaze with a thrust of my chin and a stubborn mask of determination.

"How about if we keep it random— the scheme, I mean. We can put all our names into a container and enchant it to pair us all automatically-" I smiled through my suggestion before I was interrupted.

A Slytherin –obviously from the green lining on the robe— commented, "What if a pair was from the same house? Wouldn't it be unfair to the others?"

I rolled my eyes inwardly. A Slytherin talking about justice and fairness. _Now,_ _that's rich._ "I wasn't finished yet, Ms. Stone when I was elaborating about my idea when you commented immediately. We would force some sort of exception, willing the container not to come up with any pair that will branch from the same house. Of course, so that we could ensure _fairness,_" –here, I gave her a pointed look, which angered her quite well before turning my gaze to Malfoy. He was seated, composed and intent on our discussion, eyes on me. I smiled distractedly at him and continued my explanation. "As I said, to ensure fairness, we would all cast the incantation all at the same time, our wands simultaneously pointed to the said container." I let out a breath and surveyed all their reactions.

Some were murmuring their accordance, nodding and bobbing their heads. I could see Ginny giving me a proud smile, a certain Slytherin in my year –if I remember correctly was Blaise Zabini— beside her, discussing something with her. She looked up to him and was in deep thought, until I was force to tear away my attention from them because someone mentioned my name loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I think Granger has a fine plan. I don't see anyone against her idea, so to end things quickly so that we could all go back to our friends, why don't we let Granger lead us?" He turned to me, and I had a distinct feeling I was receiving a _pet_ from him. I shivered involuntarily for his unforeseen praising innuendos towards my idea. It was a second time I felt I was his dog, and I detested the mere thought of it.

I nodded and started explaining the spell –that it would not only randomly pair us up, but a specific date would be given to us— rarifying the incantation to them and clearly speaking it over again. I transfigured a book –which earned a few gasps from some Slytherins. Another one of their jokes. _"Aren't books something Granger worship? And yet now she's transfiguring one into a petty container!" _

I ignored the gasps and asked them to write their name on small pieces of parchment; then we practiced, all together, three times without wands before proceeding with the spell. I sighed with relief when the container emitted a bright blue light that wasn't blinding at all. Paired pieces came sputtering out of the container.

I stepped forward, so did Malfoy, and I started reading the paired names.

"Elizabeth Stone and Terry Boot," was the first pair that came from the container.

"Katherine Moon and John Spinson," Malfoy dictated with indifference.

The pairs seemed to lessen and lessen.

"Blaise Zabini and Ginny Weasley," I said through a small smile. At least Ginny was with someone nice, or at least she was in good terms with.

My eyes roamed –as I was waiting for my name to come out— around the small compartment, further emphasized with the lot of people inside now. As I finished looking at each of them, talking idly with their partner, I suddenly realized there was only one more person left that I was to be paired with.

"Seems like only a pair left," Malfoy drawled, and I snapped my head back to him. I could see a sort of glint forming in his eyes, as his mouth working its way to one of his usual… smirks.

"Malfoy," I breathed in a high-pitched voice that I was careful of carelessly giving out. But at that time, I didn't care about anything except that I was back to square 1. I was back to a result that I wanted to evade from by thinking of another plan, only to find out that I was paired with him. Even fate was against me, and I wondered if fate could be possibly bribed, and if so, Malfoy already did so.

My eyes were wide, irises a bit big for my own liking, making my brown owl-like eyes seemed bigger. The next thing I knew, Ginny was beside me, gripping my arm lightly but securely. She seemed to know me better than myself, since I think I was hyperventilating.

Malfoy didn't move his piercing gaze from me, and announced nonchalantly to the whole room, "Meeting adjourned." And the prefects started to file out from the small compartment, pair by pair.

"Hermione," Ginny whispered, worry evident in her voice.

The meeting was actually finished quicker than what I anticipated because what I anticipated were violent reactions. Seemingly, no one reacted like some crazy old fool. Except maybe I think I was feeling something that was about to blow up inside me. I didn't think it would be me who would be reacting violently, or taking it like a 3 year old when the kid wouldn't get a toy he wanted and ending up making a fuss, making a scene and crying wildly.

"Hermione," urgently this time, and it seem to calm me.

I couldn't think of any loop-hole for the mess I entered myself in. It was completely random, just as how we wanted it to be. It was fair and nothing short of being unbiased since we all casted the spell, at the same time even.

I closed my eyes, took deep breaths and was imagining a scene that I would likely help me to calm down. It was a bit hard, knowing that even eyes closed, I could feel Malfoy's icy gaze on me. I slowly opened my eyes, now conscious of Ginny's grip on my arm and found that Malfoy was conversing with Zabini.

"Ginevra," Blaise called, "how about we decide what route we'd be taking during our shift?"

Ginny turned to me and softly said, "I could stay if you want me to."

I shook my head. Asking her to stay would mean weakness. I was not about to show any sort of weakness when I almost fainted in front of Malfoy. I shook my head again. "No… no. You can go. I'm alright, nothing really wrong with me. Don't worry!"

All four of us knew better than the lie I was saying, of course. But then again, even Malfoy wasn't crude enough to actually say something about it. For that I was thankful, and to prove my point to Ginny, albeit it was a prevarication, I added, "The heat just got into me, I suppose. Go on. Carry on. I don't want to be the reason for delaying you with whatever task you've got in mind." I concluded that a smile would be a wise decision.

"If you're sure then…" Ginny hesitantly stood up and crossed over to the door. "Malfoy," she turned to the Head Boy with a threat so soft, so feminine, but highly dangerous all the same— as if uttering his name was enough.

To my surprise, Malfoy wasn't the least bit offended. He smiled, acknowledging Zabini and Ginny's departure from the little compartment both the Head Boy and Head Girl shared.

I belatedly realized what kind of smile he offered them. He was amused as hell with Zabini and Ginny's interaction, and so, a little part of me was scared for Ginny's sake.

The door closed. And suddenly… just suddenly, all thoughts about Ginny's welfare vanished. I was once again alone with the suspect.

For the last time, was I just too paranoid?

This would be one long trip.


	3. History and Probable Prophecies

Title: Irrational Revelations  
Chapter Title: History and Probable Prophecies  
Characters: Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger  
Genres: Romance, Humour  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Hermione Granger was ecstatic. She finally gets her dream come true, and her efforts for 6 years would soon end. But seemingly, Fate has something else stored for her. Where insanity is a probability; paranoia is evident. Sarcasm and humor is very much taken seriously. Creepy prophecies, raging hormones, and forbidden relationships take place in the very progressive world of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.

I was not someone to be trifled with. Should I repeat that statement? Pansy was wasting her time- no, _my_ time and bothering _me_, and simply ignoring her doesn't even seem to work.

At all.

Every student except first years were given an hour to rest before the Yearly Initiation and Welcoming Rites were held. And I was resting— or trying to rest with the time that's left. Merlin, I just couldn't.

Pansy, with her physical attributes, literally sends _almost_ every other guy following her like a dog Fortunately I wasn't one to fall to her clutches. Take note of the word _almost _because I wasn't one of those hundred dogs that were madly besotted with her.

Honestly, Pansy Parkinson is a dear friend of mine, no matter what those sick rumors tell about me and my relationship with Pansy. Also, I do not concur with the wild stories –which have been made by a daring-gone-brokenhaerted-then-insane guy because he was rejected (or dumped, for a more fitting word) by Pansy— that, in a gist, say: Pansy is a whore.

I have never even shagged her and have no desire to— not because she was hideous since she was far from one, as I have stated earlier. And I wouldn't call someone a friend if they lacked honor and built a ghastly reputation for themselves.

I was a Malfoy. That alone says something. The fact that _I _was Draco Malfoy says something more, of course. I have standards and my own reputation to uphold. One would just think of the shame— well, the thought may be lost for some people not originally of the Wizarding World, and not respectable enough. Some families like the Weasley, perhaps, but the Parkinsons have their own share of standing to sustain. Pansy is aware of that, and I know her well enough that she will do her duty as a Parkinson.

A scowl formed on my face, not necessarily marring my handsome face as that will never happen. Pansy was like a pesky flee. (Aren't all flies pesky?) Flying back and forth— or rather, pacing to and fro across my view, for a more human outlook of things. And instead of a dizzying pair of wings that most of these creatures have, this specimen had a billowing, fluffy arrangement of what seemed to be a skirt that had the same effect as those wings.

Annoying.

And what made me seethe more with petulance was the fact that I wasn't hearing any buzzing, which a majority of people you could randomly choose for a survey would agree (then again, every one of those would agree because I was a Malfoy) that the act is nothing but a hideous, unbelievable, mind-boggling antic of insects. Instead, continuous chatter was what I witnessed, bearing no difference from drillings, hammerings and what my mother used once: a muggle contraption which made awful whirling sounds and produced hot air that would help in styling one's hair. I cannot imagine how such a thing would work, mind you. My hair was as precious as a trunk-full of platinum and a thousand Hogwarts Castles, and I wouldn't put past myself to use that horrid junk on my hair.

"Draco, I don't love you enough to want to marry you, if you must know. And don't be offended by that; I find you handsome, but I don't see myself spending the rest of my lifetime with you," said Pansy in her usual high-pitched tone, taking a seat beside the one I was comfortably sprawled upon. As long as she didn't sit on me, I would keep myself from hexing her. My patience had limits; and friends aren't really much if they squash me on my chair.

So she finally sat. Merlin's balls, she was summoning a headache for me. An evocation I surely had no way of getting rid. And even though she was a _dear_ friend, I was already preparing on aiming a petrifying spell on her. My hands were already twitching. The forming headache was _that_ bad. She wasn't something I had time for because my thoughts were heavily occupied by _someone_ and _some thing_; both of which were allusions of…

_Her._

"-I can't marry. I won't-"

Even in my dreams, she plagues me, something I welcome from sleep, in a sweet but frightening way, despite dreams or images I cannot comprehend about— about the War. It was unheard of by the public that a Malfoy was being driven insane by a mere girl, when it was supposed to be the other way around.

A faceless, nameless girl.

Damnit, I didn't even know who was sending me to Hell with my wits out of me!

In these terms, I am but a bug on her palm. And Malfoys are not to be compared and labeled as bugs.

Ever.

Even by myself, alone with my thoughts, I cannot admit that she hunts me in broad daylight. I had fears, visions, that even in my safest den and where my concentration is centered— in Potions— I had made a fool of myself by committing dire errors and dropping unknown brown liquids the exact shade of her begrudging eyes of which I cannot seem to remember now. How unusual.

"-I'm not sure if you believe in love, Draco, but I am a female and whatever you might think, I do have my own fantasies, you know-"

I sighed. Every image I get was just too real and too fiction, if that was possible, that I hardly could take my mind off of it. It was torture for a man like me. And for a Malfoy, it was unbearably something like the _Inferno._

"-besides, I happen to visit a seer and she happened to tell me that you aren't my Prince Charming-"

In this very instant, when I close my eyes, I can see her full lips forming into a smile, her hand grazing my face. I closed my eyes, coming into presence with my goddess, appreciating the ethereal view of her. It looks so real… so true like it already happened.

I snapped my eyes open, like an assassin suddenly on the move, spotting his victim.

_Or something that will happen. _

"-hornblende. She told me-"

The War.

Her.

Celebration.

How they are intertwined isn't something I'm fortunate to know or decipher. And it brought me to insanity by just thinking of them, or trying to bring out a sense from these late puzzles.

"Pansy." A command.

She stopped, froze, and brought her attention to me. Merlin, if I only knew I had to utter her name and she would cease speaking, then I would have done it earlier. I wonder if working on a _remowt contwol_ for what muggles call a telly could actually work on Pansy. It was an ingenious thought only the likes of one Draco Malfoy could have possibly thought of. Imagine, holding such a piece of device, enabling someone, anyone, the likes of Pansy, to pause, freeze, fast-forward or… mute! Hah! I could see myself laughing like a mad scientist. Er, no, that isn't such a magnificent view fit for a Malfoy like me.

Hmm...?

Damn. Pansy and her stares. She was staring straight at my sacral eyes, puzzled. I am deeply embarrassed with God knows what my expression could have been at that moment.

"This— this seer you met," I began slowly to cover my shallow mishap, jumping to whatever was the topic on the tray of my conscious brain, unsure and undecided. Only coming to decide in the last nano-second if I was going to push with the thought. I banished the offer my father wisely presented to me during the summer of my sixth year. The offer of being sent to a seer. I forced the thought off my head immediately. I didn't want my life being under the control of mere speculations. I didn't believe in such things; the mere thought of prophecies was… preposterous, illogical, and unexplained. It was something I was not accustomed to. A reason why I didn't take Divination from that old-batted Trelawney; I know she's a phony, too obvious— Dumbledore and his old jokes. I was surprised some people like that Parvati and the other girl she's always with (from Ravenclaw, or was she Gryffindor?) were tricked. Weasley could have done a much better job than the old char herself. Gullible would very well be a word to describe them. All of them.

"Your mother recommended her to me. She knows of my distress, your mother." Pansy informed me quietly, although I heard a hint of wistfulness.

Ahhhh. She wanted her mother-in-law to be someone like Narcissa, my equivocal mother, who, while a Malfoy known for being cool tempered, was compassionate and not at all an ice-queen, contrary to the belief of majority of the Wizarding Population.

My mother sent her to _The Seer— _the same seer that I declined with persistence against my father's manipulation. I should have known immediately, and I thought she had been proclaimed dead the other year due to old age. The old sneak was still alive. Drats!

_Just a visit_, my father told me. _You will lose nothing if you hear her words. But a great loss you shall experience if you do not pursue her. A regret you will bear and bring to your grave._

My father believed I had the making of a seer (incidents happened when I was young), for not a seer had been witnessed for generations in our line,- not since Marcus Machen- who had also constructed the first ever Mansion in _France. _Of course,nothing near as elegant and grandiose as the Malfoy Mansion in Wiltshire where my permanent residence it located.

I remembered reading a book, among the many other tomes I was encouraged to read in the Mansion, when I still young. It presented a theory, one that I am not very sure of even. Following the time lines, comparing it with historical events, then it might be true. But the odd thing was that _it_ was never publicly discussed in the Mansion. It was something I happened to accidentally read. One needed to look it himself; if not, then it will never be mentioned to him. One can ask, but really, how can one when he has no knowledge of it whatsoever- even the simplest reference and fact to it. This other book, I read, explained how it came to be, rooting from a simple thing like a name.

_In those years, during the 12th century, surnames and bynames were used to identify two people having identical first names. Bynames were names given only to an individual. It was not something that was passed on to the family, to blood-relatives, unlike surnames. _

_Last names, whether they may be bynames or surnames, fall into four basic types: relationship, occupational, locative and epithet._

_Relationship names are last names that denote being connected to a family. Examples of such names are: Larsson (Norse for Lar's son); mac Domhnaill (Scots for Domnall's son); Haraldsdottir (Norse for Harald's daughter); Ivanovna (Russian for Ivan's daughter) or Mastroguilio (Italian for Guilio's servant)._

_Occupational names are last names derived from an occupation. Examples of such names are: Chapman (English for merchant); Cooper (English for a maker of barrels); Shumacher (German for shoemaker); Giardino (Italian for gardener)._

_Locative names are last names that denote a particular place or general area (usually based on the person's place of origin). Examples of such names are: Ursula of York (English for "from the town of York"); al-Maghrebi (Arabic for "North African"); von Bayern (German for "Bavarian" or "of Bavaria"); "du Nord" (French for "from the north") or della Torre (Italian for "from the tower")._

_Epithets are not really true names but phrases or terms which describe a characteristic of the person. (Although over time some epithets did develop into surnames.) Epithets can represent a physical characteristic, a character trait or even an event in a person's life. Examples of such are: Barbarossa (German for "redbeard"); Heppni (Norse for "prosperous, lucky"); Knockwalledowne (English for someone who has knocked a wall down)._

We have been known to be of an English Pure-Blood Aristocracy –far ancient and prominent than the Weasleys— for the past 682 hundred years, rather than a dominating French clan. We have been in power in France for more 20 centuries.

It seems ironic, does it not? For of a French descent kin started centuries ago, to be found in present England as the most powerful and influential family?

Marcus discovered himself a seer, I surmised, very well after the Malfoy Mansion was an imposing edifice in France. He had visions, and deciphered these visions into a prophecy that he viewed as an advantage. There was to be a War between France and Britain. He knew then that France would not be successful with their occupation, their mission, in spiting the British and getting hold of its territories and holding political authority over it.

Malfoys are lot things, but siding and aiding a losing side was something we are not.

Marcus transferred his assets slowly and carefully to England, leaving his brother behind. Convincing his brother would be just a probable waste of time, and it proved to be an advantage. Or at least keep homicidal French loyalists at bay. It was a better outcome, in truth. At least France did not hunt him down and his family-to-be of treason, since his brother was still there. Proof that his family was loyal to France.

_Right._

He had exactly 22 years, before the beginning of the Hundred Years' War would start— to establish an industry, make a name, and be influential enough to avoid being identified as French when the war would start, since it will prove to be a disadvantage if it ever happened.

When he migrated to England, he was then informed that he had a few far-off Wizarding relatives living there. They were struggling, unable to get any revenue after the patriarch of the family died (Murder, they cried!), and the wife was wallowing in depression (how pathetic) leaving the children, who, because of their inexperience and youth, could not restore the once-honorable family to what was their upkeep and lifestyle before the tragedy happened. It was such a shame, really. They could have been… _prosperous_. So Marcus, having some plans in mind, offered to support them, and restored them back to what they were before. It was a debt the family owed Marcus. The depressed wife, became mentally ill and Marcus could no longer do anything to help. The children grew up under his care, and it brought him a good name, both in the Muggle world and the Wizarding world. He was viewed as compassionate English, and not once being linked to France, albeit his last name was derived from a French word. He took hold of the family line instead, posting himself as the Patriarch.

_Epithets._

Marcus found it amusing to name his family that would mean something like, "_Bad Faith."_ Ironic, it was… for he was a seer: Faith is a strong belief in a supernatural power that control human destiny. Doesn't the part of being a seer run across the lines of faith, as well?

"Draco, you have to see her. She's one of the best that you are, providentially, able to meet if you would just see her once. I hear she's very sickly, and her time draws near." she reasoned out and confirmed my reservations about the seer. If so, how accurate would her prophecy be on me? Would she even have enough power to draw out her prophecy for me?

I scoffed, rolling my eyes likewise.

A seer was someone respected, for all his powers and his predictions were credible.

But this seer was remarkably aged, and her powers were weakening just like herself, she couldn't provide Pansy with what she wanted to know. A stone was only what she informed Pansy. Merlin, as if that would ever help.

In the end, I told her the best non-committal response. "Thank you, Pansy. My mother knows of your distress, does she not? I assure you that we will not be wed if it is against our wishes. I have some important matters I have to concern myself with." I concluded formally, bowed a little to show some respect as both of us were member of High-Clan.

This seer business, and whatever history facts, were just a waste of time for me, really. Absurd, it was. I had other things, more pressing things to do and think about.

_Head Duties with Granger. _

"Draco," Pansy's eyes were focused on the window. It was when I heard tapping sounds, and I had a feeling I knew what or _who_ it was.

"Isn't that… Athros?" Pansy squinted, looking suspiciously at the blasted owl sent by my father.

I sighed, annoyed with my father for sending something when I haven't been gone for a day. Merlin, what was his problem?

I was already facing Athros before I knew it, languidly approaching the window and mentally predicting what the scroll contained. It couldn't be so damn important that Athros was sent, was it? Our owls, and hawks were world class messengers who were known to be very haste, winning in competitions and attaining merits. Athros was the fastest of them all; then again, he was father's favorite pet. Maybe father just missed me.

Sure. And the Hell is Heaven. And Granger loves me. I almost choked on the thought.

A loud click sounded as I opened the window, cold air pushing through the heavy draperies. Athros circled around the room before landing on my outstretched arm. Athros was very vain and a show-off, if that was even possible in owls.

I took the parchment from him, sending him a nod and was surprised when he didn't fly back. It only meant one thing: my father, obviously the one who sent Athros, expected a reply. Immediately.

I glared at the sodding owl, sending him the ill feeling I had for my father as he was not here. I almost ripped the letter, and I could have bloody sworn I saw Athros' claw suddenly poised. Merlin's beard, was he ordered to claw me alive if I took no notice of the note?

Whatever the letter contained piqued me, so I proceeded on opening it with haste.

I saw the Malfoy Crest embedded to the center-top of the paper, the very same mark used as a seal.

_Draco,_

_You have persistently ignored my request of you to have an audience with the seer. You must know that you were only delaying the inevitable. I am extremely left confused for your refusal, but I must force you to see her at once. It is your duty as a Malfoy as I did once to ensure the continuity of our clan. I will be sending Dumbledore a letter informing him of your sudden departure from school. While she has no permanent dwelling, she has sent me a riddle where she is presently located. Be prepared. We don't have much time, and I am sure you are aware of that. Everything lays in your hands, son._

_L.M. _

I sank on the chair nearest to where I stood, trying to calm myself.

"Draco?" Pansy inquired softly. "What is it? It couldn't be too dreadful? Is someone dead…" she trailed off.

"No." I told her flatly, "but someone will soon. Father requires me to see the seer."

She said nothing, but we knew what the other was thinking. We didn't actually have a say on anything, and certainly this task was anything but hard. I wasn't even expected to do anything, but follow because it was a tradition I must keep.

"Wh-when?" her voice slightly odd. And I raised a brow to her reaction.

"No given date, but assuming father's capabilities I will have to go tomorrow." I finished dryly, glancing at my wrist watch which was platinum-plated.

10 minutes before the Welcoming Rites started. "Pansy, how was the seer's condition when you last saw her,"

She shook her head and looked away from me. "S-she was very sick, Draco. She was coughing very bad, her fingers and arms were too bony. I was afraid she wasn't going to make it at all, you know. That I would be the last person she'd ever tell a prophecy for."

"I see," I enunciated shortly after a moments of silence that proved Pansy was not going to say anything more. I needed to write a reply soon, I noted, remembering Athros' presence. I didn't bother on finding a fresh parchment, but rather, wrote my reply at the bottom of my father's letter. It was a very short reply, one issuing acknowledgement. I sent him away, but not before Pansy insisted on feeding it something. Merlin, women are too bloody mawkish for my take. I wonder, how my wife would coo me, if she even dared. I shivered at the thought, not actually believing what I was thinking.

I stood up, calling Pansy's attention twice, and was disgusted with the look of pure wistfulness (I suppose she was thinking of the bloke that was prophesized to be destined for her.) I saw on her face.

What damning prophecy would that hag say? That I will marry Granger? Dream on.

A/N: The latter part of the chapter might have been a drag. Sorry for that, but I think of a better way than to insert the history stuff which was a bit vital to the plot.

The paragraph about the names is unedited and is taken from this link: http/www2. in the Hundred Years' War, France won, but could we just keep that fact to our little selves? This is my story, and I shall do as I please. !sheepish smile!

Next chapter would be the public announcement, sorting, _room arrangements._

P.S. Anyone volunteering as a BETA?


	4. Either Learn or Leave

Title: Irrational Revelations Chapter Title: First Agreements  
Characters: Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger  
Genres: Romance, Humour  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Hermione Granger was ecstatic. She finally gets her dream come true, and her efforts for 6 years would soon end. But seemingly, Fate has something else stored for her. Where insanity is a probability; paranoia is evident. Sarcasm and humor is very much taken seriously. Creepy prophecies, raging hormones, and forbidden relationships take place in the very progressive world of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.

"'Mione!" someone called out my name, and _he_ –I deduced from the familiar masculine tone— was none other than Ronald Weasley, second youngest child of Arthur and Molly Weasley who both have been too kind to me and served as my surrogate parents during my stay in the Wizarding World. Naturally, they were kind, not only to me but Harry, as well. And speaking of Harry, there he was beside Ron.

A wonder of goodness filled me; a thought that I didn't think would invade after the train ride. I began walking towards them, and they seemed to be doing the same thing. A purposely twisted smile -inwardly, of course, since I always have to maintain my pristine reputation- crossed my face, thinking of a good possible welcoming joke, when I felt someone pull my hand into his own.

I stopped; eyes a bit wide with the sudden intrusion, and I turned to face the culprit. To my disgust, it was Malfoy, and I wasn't shocked to see the same feeling I was harboring against him in his eyes as he stared at Harry and Ron. I hissed, not wanting to shout and drag attention from anybody else, "So now you're into kidnapping muggleborns? If you would excuse me, Malfoy, my friends are waiting for me… unlike yours— that is if you actually have one at all. And you're hoping too much if you actually think I'd consider you one, or even give you a chance to be one of my friends."

He sighed and reluctantly loosened his grip on my hand, still not letting go. "Don't flatter yourself. Professor Dumbledore motioned me to come and collect you so that we could start the Welcoming Celebration for the first years. And I do have some friends, although I suppose your delusional brain wouldn't accept that, then again, why should I care whatever your underprivileged mind thinks?" He wracked away his hold on Harry and Ron's direction before settling his line of sight somewhere in the Faculty Table. "Give a smile, Granger. We don't want scaring our professors of the mayhem we can cause now, do we?" he whispered through a side of my ear, and I think he sent a smirk towards the boys since I heard a "bloody git" coming from the direction of Harry and Ron. He drew my attention to the Faculty Table so quickly that I only had a quarter of a second to put a smile on my face.

Fortunately, I was somehow adept in making use of masks when the need for deception arose. I sent a quick smile to Harry and Ron, a bit apologetic, gesturing to Dumbledore, careful of keeping a pleasant face for everyone to see. I heard a derisive snort from Malfoy, and I glanced at him. It was a bit hard, seeing that he still _had _my right hand locked with his left hand. "I'm surprised, Granger. You seem to be well-versed with deceit."

He saw through my mask. I groaned inwardly, wanting to _wring_ his pale neck. "The pot calling the kettle black," I exclaimed back in a whisper. "How surprising."

"You aren't denying you're deceitful, then?" he asked, genuinely surprised with my use of phrasing.

"And _you_ aren't denying it either?" I retorted.

"No, what's there to deny? All I can say is that I'm _better_ at what I'm doing, and _you_ know it," he said, rather smugly. This was true, as much as I hated admitting it.

"You mean you're _evil_," I concluded, although we both knew it was a lame comeback.

"No. _Better,_" he corrected. "You're not exactly evil yourself, or are you? If that's your argument for my case, then that makes you evil as well, for the sole reason of being deceitful as I am." He _actually _sounded thoughtful, which was worse. He knew he was logically correct, and I was forced to accept my loss.

I opened my mouth, partially weary of Malfoy's reaction with my declaration, when Dumbledore spoke, "Ah. The well-respected Head Boy and Head Girl." The twinkle in his eyes calmed me. I gave him an appreciative smile for he was one of the reasons I was made Head Girl.

"Sonorous." His spectacle reflected another glimmer in his eyes, and I felt Malfoy shudder beside me. I looked at him suspiciously because I couldn't very well be caught seen worrying about my enemy's state when there wasn't anything to be worried about. "Are you alright?" I whispered to him, peeking a glance at him. It was only then he released his grip from my hand fully. Something I wasn't even aware about anymore— aware that he had still been holding my hand up to that point.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, students, friends-" Professor Dumbledore's voice echoed throughout the Great Hall which immediately silenced any noise. I sensed no tension, but a feeling of awe and respect instilled in each student at Hogwarts.

"Fine," Malfoy grunted, and I didn't bother replying anymore since he was set on one of his _moods_ again. I wanted nothing to do with it, unless I wanted to come out scathed from his offending mouth when Professor Dumbledore was just about to announce something. Something that made tiny flutterings in my stomach which I couldn't stop. It was only at that point that my reasoning mind reached out to my conscious state and told me what was happening.

_He's _announcing _us. Head Boy and Head Girl._

I really wished Malfoy still held my hand. He proved to have a calming effect on me a while ago, however ironic that sounds.

"-Faculty and friends, first and foremost," he continued, nodding to the table Malfoy and I were sending masks of smiles a while back. "I proudly present to you our present Head Boy and Head Girl! Ms. Hermione Granger and Mr. Draco Malfoy!"

Applause, hooting, loud screams of "I love you, Draco"—which made my stomach do some weird churning—and finally some snickering were evident.

Draco Malfoy, who was previously shuddering and grunting at me, was now composed, as if no such discomfort or whatever-the-hell-happened-to-him washed over him. He solemnly dropped his head before the cheering crowd, and a bevy of girls –which I could only guess what his past history was with each and every one of them— and lastly, the Faculty. After that, I engaged myself with doing the same thing he did, offering respect, appreciation and affirming their decision with the highest sense of regard; that I would do my very best in ensuring of keeping to the rules, my duties and safeguarding the welfare of everyone. The usual.

"Welcome, welcome," said Professor Dumbledore for the _real_ greeting, as he materialized again from the side and deposited the Sorting Hat on the empty chair at the front. I still wasn't used with the trick of his, no matter how many years I was temporary residing in Hogwarts. The noise completely died down as he spoke in loud tones. Well, he was that respected. I'm afraid even the Slytherin didn't have the ambition to spite someone like the Professor. "In behalf of all the professors, I say we are pleased to see that all of you arrived safely. I trust that the journey went well?"

Agreement was shouted by a few. I'm placing my bets that at least 90 of those who replied enthusiastically and bravely chirped in would be sorted to Gryffindor.

"Excellent, most excellent," Dumbledore said. "Before we begin, I will ask each of you that, as soon as Professor McGonagall call your name, you should sit on this chair and let the Sorting Hat sort you."

For a moment, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched, and giddily it came alive. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into a song:

_A thousand years or more ago,_

_When I was still brand-new,_

_I was given life and a task,_

_Which I continue until now._

_You may not find me clean,_

_Nor you may say I'm pretty,_

_But I am smart, _

_The smartest of all hats,_

_For I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat. _

A new chance for the lot,

To reclaim and prove yourselves once more,

A maze is set,

Roles handed,

Abilities given,

And destinies to make,

To venture and reach your adventure

But first I must perform,

The task laid to me

By the Great Founders

To sort you accordingly.

So come, try me on, and I will see,

_For nothing can hide from me,_

_And I will tell you,_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might be long in bold Gryffindor, _

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring streak, and nerves_

_Are far prized beyond the rest._

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where the patient and true reside,_

_Unafraid of toil and work,_

_The most loyal of all._

_Or perhaps in Slytherin ,_

_Where great ambition lives,_

_You'll make real friends,_

_With the cunning folks._

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_Where the cleverest are envisioned,_

_With those of wit and learning,_

_Will be best seen._

_Four houses there are to choose_

_That which suits you the best _

_Each house its own, each one as well_

_And mighty as the rest. _

_So snug me on,_

_For I am a thinking cap,_

_Which has never been wrong,_

_And I will choose,_

_The house where you truly belong!_

The Great Hall rang with applause and cheer. And I noticed some faces were waiting with anxious, nervous reactions. But some looked bold with startling confidence for they knew with conviction what house they would be sorted in.

I smiled in mild recognition of my younger days. Innocent, care-free… uninfluenced— or maybe not. Some of them, who weren't Pureblood would be just as that, ignorant of the harsh truth that awaited them all. Whatever their Houses were, they would serve as a guide, a stronghold and a sanctuary for the whole seven years of their stay in Hogwarts.

I was, of course, by then, securely seated at the Gryffindor Table on my usual seat in-between Harry and Ron, opposite of Ginny. I wondered in amazement how much time had gone by; how much change in personalities, opinions; even our new developed obligations in the world, in the War, that was occurring which was gravely forbidding per se.

I guess thoughts on the War –or something as disturbing— surfaced on my face. I was fortunate enough that the boys were all busy eating and foraging their food that they barely noticed the change in my expression; and to Ginny that knew the word discretion. She glanced at me, sparing a quick look at both boys before her forehead wrinkled in concern, her face asking a question we both knew I could read. I shook my head slowly, and offered a small sad smile. She was the only one aware of how heavy my thoughts were on the war, the future—if we even had one left.

I didn't bother talking to the boys about it, especially to Harry who I knew had his own problems: Harry had decidedly and voluntarily kept things to himself; his nightmares have been pesky— too pesky and incessant that one would see dark bags under his once-sparkling-now-dull eyes.

Ron, on the other side, wasn't much helpful, even though he wasn't that… brooding. I, for one, wouldn't expect something coherent or even reasonable –unless it be goofy and shallow— if he offered any advice, or a solution to the relentless problems flowing in and out of our lives. Thankfully, he hasn't been persistent in using one of his many suggestions.

So that leaves me back to Ginny. She's the only one who knows my true side; only one –other than Mafoy, that is— who has been able to see through the faces, expressions I've developed, and learned to wear over the recent years. I was once optimistic –like those first years— but the events, the careful planning and waiting, the sleepless nights of training, the morbid nightmares on massacres had worn me off— had simply changed me.

I learned to accept facts, accept what was real, deep inside. I've been forced to think –not that I wasn't thinking before, with my obsession of learning new things, but there was a big difference— not just depending on being spoon-fed, even though I've been independent enough to study in advance on my own; I taught myself to reflect on things, and not just to bite and bite without chewing and tasting.

Whenever I was with other people I was serious and aware of the consequences— I wasn't optimistic without reason, but I wasn't a pessimist either. I wasn't the same ignorant little fool of a girl that I was once. I was hopeful with a cause that I stood by because I knew things, understood things that even some wizards would never empathize.

That led me back to Malfoy. And on cue, I felt someone's eyes –of what emotion, I couldn't just identify— boring a whole on the back of my head. I heard Ginny smother an amused laugh, her eyes somewhere on the Slytherin table. _Again, _dare I say? I was betting a certain Blaise Zabini was involved. Then, as if sensing my attention on her, she motioned me to turn my back and I did.

A pair of grey eyes. I felt myself sucked directly, instantly drowning, and felt my head go light. I couldn't turn away, not because I didn't want to turn away— if left to my own choice I would continue what I was doing— I was simply powerless to do so. _Oh God_, it scared me… but I was also experiencing some weird emotions shifting inside me that I couldn't point my finger at exactly and explain why.

Thankfully, Professor Dumbledore concluded the celebration by saying, "It has been a pleasant experience to see familiar faces back, and new faces that are very much eager. As much as I want this celebration to continue, I cannot overlook that you have classes the next day."

Groans from the students made him chuckle as he continued, "So I have no choice, but to end this merry feast. You've all had your fair share of the magnificent banquet so I bid you all a good night rest!"

Prefects and the Heads of Houses instantly came near where their Houses' tables were located. I stood up, approached my Head of House, until she told me, smiling, a proud expression evident on her motherly-strict face, "Professor Dumbledore would escort you to your new rooms— privileges given to you as Head Girl and Boy."

It was a nice evening and I didn't want to ruin it, so I didn't react with the possible arrangements of the new rooms as Head Girl with Malfoy, the Head Boy.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy if you would just follow me and I would present you your new quarters." Apparently, Malfoy was just behind me, and I suddenly had the urge to whirl around, wand on my hand and point it at him. I shuddered with apprehension, and then ordered myself to calm down. He wasn't going to do anything, not when Professor Dumbledore was with us. Right?

Malfoy expressed his complaints in a whiny voice and said, "Old coot, our quarters aren't far, are they? I really want to lie down on my bed, you know."

All right, so that _didn't_ happen. But I was earnestly _wishing_ that Malfoy would open his _abnormally _big mouth and insult me because I was quite unused to this side of Malfoy. He had been tolerable since after our Prefects' Meeting on the train.

Seeing my discomfort, Professor Dumbledore engaged us both with some small talk, asking about our summers and telling some short tales about the paintings. That seemed to loosen me up. Thank God. Malfoy, impossibly as it may seem, even deemed us worthy enough to let us hear a few pleasant laughs from his mouth. A first, I must say.

At last, after treading numerous staircases, passing by corridors, turning for exactly 9 times, we were faced with a portrait that earned an appreciate gasp from me. The frame was a polished gold that didn't seem to bore you with its intricate work; the materials used were absolutely classed that it added to the remarkable spectacle of the painting itself. And the painting, oh… it was _Heaven_: the sun was literally setting with all the wonder of a sunset; valleys and mountains surrounding the sanctuary in the center. Fluffy clouds in periwinkle blue, white columns one would usually imagine during the time of the Greek Gods were arranged in a manner that flowers and vines were intricately, but elegantly, arranged. What got my attention was the fact that there were two personalities. A woman with the silkiest, platinum-gold hair I've ever seen was laughing with a chestnut-haired charming man. They were so blissful, you could even see their auras so bright, that it made my eyes water with happiness for both of them.

"Professor Dumbledore." The lady greeted, I could detect a mild French accent. Her companion greeted and acknowledged our presence as well. Professor Dumbledore explained to us that the portrait served as our _Guardians_. Malfoy and I didn't ask exactly why we would need _Guardians_, assuming they acted just like the "Pink Lady" guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room or the something else for Slytherin Common room in Malfoy's case. Or at least I did.

The lady in the portrait introduced herself as Helena, and her companion whose hair color I share, I think, told us to call him Dan. They were a very nice and polite coupe; Helena and Dan shared characteristics with someone I definitely knew, but I couldn't name. Finally, Professor Dumbledore asked us both to think of a phrase that would serve as our password for the entrance.

It was the first task that needed a definite result immediately with Professor Dumbledore still with us. Helena and Dan were sharing a few intimate laughs and cuddles that I resignedly turned to Malfoy.

"I don't know how we'll do it at all. Let's face the fact that we aren't going to agree on anything here, given only a few minutes of thinking and choosing. By tomorrow, we wouldn't be done arguing and I believe our wands would be drawn and we… restless." I inched closer to Malfoy and whispered to his ear, not wanting to draw Professor Dumbledore's attention as he was talking to the couple with eagerness.

Malfoy's eyes shifted quickly to Professor Dumbledore, getting my meaning for my actions and words and then settle on me.

"And the fact is, Granger?" he quietly said back.

I stared at him guessing what he was playing at.

He stared back, eyes unflinching that told me he expected an answer.

I made a noise something between annoyance and sarcasm. I happened to do it and was proud of it, but I subtly sent a look across Professor Dumbledore and was relieved to note that he still was conversing with the said couple.

"I already said it, Malfoy: _we won't agree on anything,"_ I repeated through a hiss.

"And here I was thinking you knew how to compensate." He tutted which made me grit my teeth. What the hell was he on about? "Granger, wouldn't you say that a striking phrase for our current situation would be, '_Aut disce aut discede_'?"

"Either learn or leave?" I unintentionally muttered its English translation out loud. He was again right for all he was putridly worth.

"Why am I not surprised you know your Latin?" he told himself, before adding with a confidence that was a tradition for the Malfoys –this I wondered if it was really true- "and you could just kiss the thought that I would be leaving. I don't give up easily."

"So you'd learn to get along with me?" I asked, hopeful.

"You're getting your hopes way above earth just too much. I meant what I said working with you, but I will not stop our games until the worse is already at hand, understand that. I don't want this experience to be a dull one for me. You're full of surprises, Granger, and I enjoy our playful banters." He left me standing in the corner, and I didn't know how to react with what he said. I didn't even know what I was feeling, or if I should be having any emotion for what he particularly said. All I knew was that it must have taken him a lot to actually admit that he enjoyed our banters, and so he left me insinuating some probabilities.

I caught up to him, and Professor Dumbledore had something to say to both of us, "I must say that was pretty quick. A good choice for your password, might I add. I'll leave you under Helena and Dan's care. Good night to both of you. "_Learning is a very pleasant experience if you make it so_." If I just met Professor Dumbledore, I would have taken no note of his last words. But I knew him-being under his care for seven years- and I thought he was up to something.

Or at least was anticipating something.

I really felt I was a puppet in a play and Malfoy was my puppet partner. The genre: _I don't like him._ Period. So don't bet on it being romance.

* * *

A/N: I know. It was long. This chapter has been stuck in my drive since last year. It's only now I hauled up my arse and posted it. It's a bit different from my current writing style. If you want to see my current style, drop by "Forced to Forget". :) 


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